#Divingdeep in the spring of Sedona.

…And suddenly it was here.

#HDDay. As in “Yes,  you’ve had an unforeseeably amazing time in full writerhead here in the surprise pitstop of Flagstaff,  but now it is time to Head Down into what called you into Arizona in the first place.  Get Ready.”

My writer  friend in Flagstaff solemnly released me  to the full-tilt literary friend I have based in Sedona, a place where he has completed over ten meta-angled books within just two years, in addition to all sorts of  tertiary projects.

“We’ll take the scenic route that rarely gets its props,” he said after we piled my cases into the backseat of the car and sped off. Flagstaff is only about 28 miles above Sedona but time itself seemed to stretch out between the two points. Frenetic conversation was paused only by gape-mouthed stunned silences out of the window by me as he gave me the bluntest low down on an enclave I’ve received in years.  I was game for all possible good, grateful ahead of time- my request for writing workspace at a local arts center- to work on both travel& dark fantasy drafts- had been happily approved and I was in full gratitude mode because of it,  no parameters set beyond getting to the location and going from there. I instinctively knew Sedona was as important as Taos when it came to arthead gypsies and couldn’t wait to experience firsthand the why behind that. 

But that gratitude exploded into outright shock as we slowly eased our way into Sedona from the bottom and the towering spindle that Exile, the eleventh book in my series  opens with a feral child base-jumping from.  The tenth book in the series,  Empyrean, ends with a main character signaling across layers of space & time to another by hurling a kokopelli amulet into a burning lake…a scene I remember wiring to blow minds clear as day. But Sedona was eschewing the mind and shooting straight at my heart. 

He grinned as we pulled into the parking lot of Bell Rock. It loomed above us majestically, its searing red face swaddled in the lush green of the lead-in to monsoon season and  bathed in incandescent, perfect blue light. I couldn’t speak because it was resonating with me that deeply, remembering me,  reminding me that I’d been there once before.  I was 18, on a forced family trek across route 66. My maiden name is the namesake of this formation. This is where the only sunset I recalled of that entire trip happened, dancing across the surface of these glorious rocks.
The vortex rang out with what I can honestly only describe as a vibrational “Welcome back, kid.”

…and then it was On. Because although this reads as fantastical & wild,  it was nothing compared to what the city of Sedona had in store for author/artist Angel Brynner, in #globalboho mode,  ready to hole up in a bunker and write.
To find out What happened next, pick up the first official Globalboho Guide, published by KokoPelliMa Press in early 2018.


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